Chapter 9 A Truth for a Truth #2
He left out the part where his father had scolded him that morning for the poor marks on his latest exam, resulting in a bent spike on his tail that some days still didn’t stand right. Those tears still felt… private. Like a secret only for himself and the stacks in the back of the building.
“Basic runes had always been straightforward, but they were easy for everyone, so I didn’t think much of it until I came across a book written in our ancient language.
It was an advanced text about using star charts to manipulate runes, and before I knew it, I’d read the whole thing.
First time I think I’d finished a book.” He pressed into the outermost lines of the tattoo, hidden in the crease of his wrist. “I stayed in there until moonfall, sketching out ideas, and then… well, I had some connections. Managed to purchase the tattoo supplies, picked the spot to be effective but hidden—mostly hidden.”
He chanced a look at Kalypso. Her brow was still furrowed, but it was in concentration, her gaze locked on his wrist as he lightly traced the ink with a claw.
“It’s tailored only for me,” Ozirax said, offering his wrist so she could get a better look. “Every one of my tattoos is an attempt to hone my abilities, but this one was my first experience with… quiet.”
That word wasn’t enough, but in this moment, he realized he’d never explained the reason why to anyone else before.
His squadron knew what his ink was, hidden between the marks to celebrate their accomplishments in the Dreadmoor, but nothing more than an excuse to be a better warrior for them.
Nothing about the roiling magic that suddenly made sense within him.
Ozirax paused, waiting for her judgement as she mindlessly traced the ink with the pad of her calloused thumb.
He wondered how much she had noticed before, if she’d so easily recognized the inversion of her rune cuff to allow for passage in and out of Heck.
If she understood just how rare it was that her eyes tracked the runes better than some demons who had been studying the patterns for years or longer.
He wondered if she realized how gently she held his wrist, when all they’d done before now was spar.
“My sister.”
It was so quiet, even his advanced hearing strained to hear the words. But Kalypso’s eyes flicked up, a rare meeting of his gaze that didn’t feel sharp, yet peeled him apart all the same.
“My tattoos are for Kat.” She rolled her right shoulder, the ink hidden under her dark tunic.
“She… likes to embroider. Her fingers are nimble, and we didn’t have much.
She learned to mend our clothes, and she used to get so nervous about wasting supplies, so I made sure she always had enough to do whatever she wanted.
Her smile was always the brightest when she was stitching vines. ”
There were unspoken words in between that Ozirax could assume now, after watching Kalypso’s habits.
She stole the thread. She gave up meals to give her sister joy. She shielded her from the harsher world around them.
“That love doesn’t sound like a weakness,” he whispered.
“If it weren’t, we wouldn’t be here.”
A truth, raw and unfiltered. Ozirax could feel it in the power of her stare, within those colored irises, as she’d called them.
As if those words were a breaking point, the slice across her lip and chin opened, a small drip of red blood slipping down her face like the lone tear she’d shed earlier.
Ozirax desperately wanted to crack her open further, crawl inside that mind of hers and understand what she really meant by her words, but he’d made a promise, and this liminal space of… not friendship, per se, but solid ground between them was too important not to fracture.
So instead, he slipped his hand from hers and pressed the pad of his thumb against her bleeding lip. Drew the small rune in the red and watched her golden skin mend.
“I see your loneliness, Kalypso, because I’ve felt it.
I still feel it, crave it, because sometimes the ability to hurt is the only thing that keeps me going.
It’s become a comfort and a safety. But when you flare your spikes before anyone has a chance to get close, you’re going to lose out on a lot of the good things this new life has to offer you. ”
She tested the healed cut with her tongue—a distracting, pink thing that had him flashing back to the sparring match they’d had while kissing—before leaning against the tree to put distance between them again.
“You sure are talking a lot for someone who agreed that this between us was just sex.”
There she was again, his spicy human.
But he’d gotten her truth, given one of his own, and for now, he could concede. The more time he spent with her, the more he was learning how to find the spaces between her sharp spikes.
“You’re right.”
Kalypso’s challenging glare morphed into a confused frown. “I’m… what?”
Ozirax shrugged, but he couldn’t hide his growing smirk.
She took a step toward him, more of a stumble, as her face pinched in disgust. “No, you don’t get to make that look. You’re… stop smiling, it looks weird.”
He didn’t. “Here’s what I think, Spicy. By the end of our bargain, you’re going to admit that emotional attachments aren’t a weakness.”
“Our… fuck no. I am not falling in love with your prickly purple ass just because you managed to get me off one time—”
“My ass isn’t prickly, in case you want to have a look. Or play around with it at some point.” He turned and strolled away from her, unbothered by her flustered curses chasing after him.
Because now he had a new strategy with Spicy, especially if he was stuck with her until he figured out what to do with that promotion. At the very least, it would make the impending fundraiser more palatable.
Besides, it’s not like in the process, either of them would fall in love.